


Today (It never ends)

by thelostrocketeer



Series: past present future [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Derek POV, Hunter!Stiles, M/M, More angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-09
Updated: 2012-09-09
Packaged: 2017-11-13 21:06:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/507713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelostrocketeer/pseuds/thelostrocketeer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where Hunters are the hunted, and Stiles is one in hiding, dreading the end.<br/>But now Derek <i>knows</i>.<br/>So now they run.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Today (It never ends)

 

Today is a cycle of possibilities. Today lasts forever. Today will never end.

Today, The Wolf (they say his name is Derek) learns something about his Love.

It’s their birthday today, you see. It’s a special day. He wants to surprise Stiles.

Picking the lock is simple enough, getting in is impossible. The door will not move, cannot be moved, no matter how hard The Wolf pushes. That’s when he realises.

There’s Mountain Ash. In the paint.

Oh.

That explains a lot, really.

The silent looks, the avoided questions.

His Love is a Hunter.

Today The Wolf adds another secret to the quilt he sleeps on.

X

Today, they need to run. The Wolf and the Hunter.

Today, they need to get as far away from Beacon Hills as possible. Because _he_ knows. And _he_ is coming. Because hunters get hunted and the caught get killed.

_We need to go, right now._

The Wolf looks at his Love, whose face is a picture of confusion. His red sweatshirt hangs loosely on his frame; the ghost of a person he once was, he has not been eating much. Underneath is a long sleeved tunic. He smells like smoked mushrooms and fresh rain.

The Wolf knows why he wears long sleeves all the time. Loves him too much to call it out.

_Stiles. He knows what you are. We need to run._

And then his Love is up on his feet, his face is stricken. He grabs the clothes he keeps in the bottom drawer of The Wolf’s cupboard. His Love asks the words The Wolf dreads, looks at him with eyes uncertain.

The Wolf grabs his arm, drags him along, down the stairs to the door. His Love stops. Looks at him, his keen brown eyes now blown with fear; The Wolf can smell it too, rank and sour. Pitiful.

He thinks that maybe he should have told Stiles earlier. But he always thought his Love would tell him one day. Because they say that’s how it works, right?

The Wolf sighs and kisses his Love, hard.

_I know. I’ve known for a while. It doesn’t matter._

His Love finally nods, _okay_. He gets into his jeep as The Wolf puts their bags into the back. They stop by Stiles’ house to pick up his weapons.

Bags of aconite extract and arrows made of magic wood, guns with silver bullets and a giant gleaming sword. Bottles and bottles of powdered Mountain Ash.

They look at each other and The Wolf nods.

Today, they drive. They run.

X

Today, they get a cheap motel room with dingy neon signs that only have two letters that light up. They leave the bows and the guns and the sword in the trunk. Stiles sprinkles a circle of protection around the room.

 _I’m sorry_ , says The Wolf’s Love as he sits down on the hard bed, his brown eyes downcast, weary.

_There’s nothing to be sorry for._

The Wolf sits next to his Love, gently rolls up the sleeves on his baggy clothes. He noses the runes and the charms on the underside of the human wrist, the skin soft as he kisses it slowly. Upwards his nose brings him: to the crook of Stiles’ elbow, the gentle curve of his upper arm. The Wolf helps him take off the sweater, the tunic, his disguise. He leans forward and kisses the pentagram on his shoulder, tongues the valleys of his collarbones.

_It’s okay, I love you, I love you, I love you._

They move together slow and steady, reassuring and panicky and afraid.

Today there are no explanations, just gentle explorations at the face of death and blood.

X

Today they pack and run, for The Monster is nearer than they like.

The Wolf can feel himself being called to the Alpha, his body aches, like his cells want to be close to their master.

He bears the dull throbbing and they drive far too fast.

X

In the dark, no fears are spoken aloud; no words of worry are wondered aloud.

In the dark, The Wolf can smell the worry coming off his Love in waves, it seeps out of the pores on his pale skin, permeating out from underneath the light brown symbols and markings tattooed on his arms and back and chest.

Today no anxious thing is said.

There is nothing but the buzz of the vending machines outside their rooms, the slick rub of skin against skin against cheap, plain white, scratchy sheets.

X

In the daylight there are no lingering looks, no hands held across the shift stick.

There are no games of footsie under sticky gas station tables, no whispered I love yous, no silly picture taking.

In the daylight they are just two boys, running, running, running from the vultures’ shadows. When The Wolf looks over their shoulders in the rear-view mirror he can almost see them, looming, leering. Pecking away at his sanity; feeding on his misery.

Because today is nothing but steaming tarmac in front of them, fiery hell behind them.

X

He’s too close; The Wolf can feel the throbbing in the base of his skull, the ache tugging at his lungs grow even stronger. He does not let his panic show.

_He’s here. We have to go._

Stiles nods, fetches his gun.

Before The Wolf can move, speak, do anything, his back is pierced by claws and he is shoved aside, flying across the room, crumpling into a pile of limbs, because-

The Monster is here, in their room. The Wolf can feel his body want to press itself against the Monster’s side. To beg and bare his throat and _submit_. He resists; his body howls in sorrow. He can’t do anything, can’t let himself stand.

The Monster (the one called Peter) slinks over to Stiles, his body lithe and graceful. He looms over him, his eyes red, fangs breaking through gums, skin rippling with fury and power.  

The Wolf can feel his body move, giving in to the animal. He feels himself stand up and walk over to The Monster-

_I can smell the blood thou hath spilt; I can taste it, Hunter-_

He feels relief and joy and gut-wrenching terror at the words of the Alpha. He feels his feet, heavy like lead as they draw closer to him-

_I find thee guilty and marred, thine penalty is death. Every drop of Wolf blood thou hath wasted shall rain on thy head, O Hunter. Now say thy last, for thine time has come. Thou shalt spill not one drop more!_

He feels his arms raise and his own claws break though the calloused skin on his fingers. He feels himself reach out as he hears the words-

_Beg for thy filthy soul! Pray that thou shalt not burn like the bodies of the Wolves whose lives thou hath taken. And now, for thy sins, I cleanse thee; by my claw thou shalt be no more, as the Great Wol-_

Blood, marrow and flesh splatter on Stiles' face as The Monster’s carotid artery explodes, as his trachea rips with a wet squelch and as his voice is stilled. The Wolf looks down at his bloody hands, sees The Monster’s head which he holds. He blinks as his fingers let go and it drops at his feet with a small thud.

The Monster’s body folds forward upon itself, blood spraying and oozing out of the severed neck, staining The Wolf’s skin and drenching his Love, who doesn’t even blink- is silent as he watches The Wolf’s face.

The Wolf feels himself turn into his namesake, the animal inside coming out.

He feels _power_ pool in his chest and seep out crimson from his eyes.

_I‘m the Alpha now._

The thought flashes through his mind as he sinks to his knees; the blood seeps into his jeans.

Then his Love is next to him, touching his face, holding him. Pressing their faces together, slick with blood and tears.

 _It’s okay, I love you, I love you, I love you._ He repeats The Wolf’s words back to him.

Today, something is changed.

X

Today they catch a flight to Buenos Aires. They’re both wanted, but it’s okay. Nobody knows them here.

The Wolf protects his Hunter, the Hunter his Wolf.

Today, life goes on.

It never ends, see?

 

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise for this horrible un-beta'd bunch of words.


End file.
